


One Day at a Time

by Ayla221bee



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: COVID-19, Comfort, Coronavirus, Domestic, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Quarantine, social distancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:08:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23401255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayla221bee/pseuds/Ayla221bee
Summary: "It is going to get worse before it gets better, it's going to take more than three weeks," Mycroft whispers. "I'm so sorry."Greg closes the laptop and pulls him onto his feet, pressing a kiss to his temple. "I know, but one day at a time," He says, the smile on his face is tight. "People have survived worse events than this throughout the years, civilisation is a cockroach, always finds a way to keep on living despite the circumstances. The world keeps on turning somehow. There's always hope and things will get better.  I believe that you are going to sort this out."
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes/Lestrade
Comments: 1
Kudos: 71





	One Day at a Time

Mycroft thought that he would enjoy the concept of _social distancing_. It seemed like the perfect concept for a rather solitary man like himself. He had little patience for _ordinary people,_ they did bore him terribly and he did struggle to understand them, and he knew perfectly well that _goldfish_ struggled to understand him. Mycroft had been actively social distancing since he was a teenager and it suited him well. 

When he would be social distancing, Mycroft imagined that he would be on a private island in the Mediterranean in a villa with Gregory Lestrade. He had often entertained the thought of living in a croft on a remote Scottish Island when the paperwork was piling up and the Prime Minister was being awfully idiotic. He never thought that he would have to socially isolate in Greg's flat.

The flat was not his first choice and it was still early days in their relationship. His apartment was in the middle of getting renovated due to smoke and water damage and there was a unique smell from something that was festering, an experiment of his brother's. They had gotten into a squabble over something silly, Sherlock had decided to turn his home into a laboratory and burned something, Mycroft was positive that he had done so on purpose, his brother was childish enough. He had quickly turned down the offer of staying with his parents in his childhood bedroom, he did not want to risk passing anything on to his parents, staying with them would be unbearable. He couldn't risk another incident, he had barely recovered from when his father made small talk and arranged a fishing trip with the former Prime Minister when he accidentally forgot to end a video conference and left his laptop open on the kitchen table for ten minutes several Christmasses ago. 

Greg had almost been rather strange about the concept of social distancing, he had even claimed that needed to self isolate to recover from the last case he had been on. He was the one who suggested that they self-isolate together, claiming that it would be the perfect way for the two of them to have some much needed time together, they had been away from another for far too long as work kept them apart. Mycroft had found himself rather agreeable to the idea, while he did enjoy being away from other people, Greg was the exception. He could not bear being away from Greg for longer than necessary especially after they had spent three weeks apart. 

He had been in Greg's flat before and he had even spent the night there, Mycroft even had his own toothbrush in the bathroom and a spare suit in the wardrobe, but they tended to stay over at his place for convenience. Mycroft much preferred his bigger and much more impersonal apartment with the nicer furniture, the more comfortable bed, and his large library and film collection. They also did not worry about having noise complaints from the neighbours and they could be more creative when they had sex. Instead, he was in lockdown in the flat where it was a novelty for Greg to sleep in and the neighbours on the floor below were loud and seemed to practice tapdancing at all hours of the day. There was barely any space and they were crowded around the breakfast table as they worked on their laptops together and their schedules conflicted horribly and it lead to a squabble within the first two days of isolation. The only merit to Greg's flat was the fact that it was close to a supermarket and several takeaway places, and it was close enough to a green space where they could go on runs together in the morning for their one exercise for the day.

"It's only for three weeks, Myc," Greg would often say throughout the day, almost as if he was reassuring himself. "Three weeks and then things can go back to normal. Have your people made any progress?"

Mycroft did not consider himself to be a cruel man and reluctantly nodded when Greg would ask that question. There was a crisis that was going on in the world and even London had gone to a standstill, it was nothing that Mycroft had experienced before and for once he didn't know how to solve it. It didn't stop him trying, nothing would. He spent hours on the phone and on his laptop in countless meetings with world leaders, ministers, and hundreds of specialists trying to find a way to solve this puzzle. He spent hours trying to make sure that there was a strong food supply going into the supermarkets after hearing Greg's report about the supermarket shelves looking as if they had been ransacked and how it was impossible to buy soap, toilet paper, and pasta. It was a worry that Greg had confessed to, people, especially the vulnerable going hungry due to people's selfishness, and Mycroft had made it one of his highest priorities. It was the only thing that he could do, the only problem that he could fix at the moment, a small semblance of control. 

It's only the fourth day of the lockdown and Mycroft feels as if he is going mad. He's been having to deal with this battle since December last year and it is an endless fight with an invisible force that refuses to be defeated. He knows that Greg is struggling with the lockdown more than he lets on, he made jokes in at the start of the month, wishing that the two of them could isolate and use it as a sex holiday. Greg even tried to joke about the lockdown and making jokes about how it was going to reduce the crime rate and it would be like a holiday, among with other quips in the attempt to get a smile out of him as he is in battle. Mycroft is not sure if the jokes are for his sake or Greg is trying to cheer himself up.

Greg is a rather social man and the lockdown is a nightmare for him, but he never says anything about it and is far too cheerful for Mycroft's liking. It is obvious that he is struggling with it, he misses his trips to the pub, he misses watching sports on tv and playing football with his friends. He misses having banter with his colleges at the Yard and with Sherlock and John. He misses being able to go to a shop and just buy toilet paper without having to gaze upon empty shelves and he misses the freedom of being allowed out more than once a day, and not having to worry about if he has unknowingly given the virus to someone or if his parents and older colleges have caught it. Mycroft knows that he is not the best company to be isolation with, he spends all of his hours working and he cannot discuss sports or engage in the banter that Greg has with his friends. Greg is probably terribly fed up with him already and they've already squabbled several times in the last few days, most recently this morning. 

The bedroom has become a makeshift office and Mycroft has barely left it since breakfast and their squabble, he cannot even remember what it was about. He vaguely has the feeling that it was about the amount of work that he has been doing recently, Greg has always been so persistent about taking breaks and making sure that he has food in him. Greg doesn't understand that he is very much like Sherlock when the need arises when there is work to be done, he doesn't sleep and he doesn't eat, it slows him down and stops him solving his puzzles. He can sustain himself on nicotine and caffeine until the job has been done. Mycroft knows that he is not at his best, he is worn down by this neverending fight but the country needs him. Greg has insisted that this is a good time for the two of them to stop smoking and that has added another struggle to this never-ending crisis. 

Greg knocks on the door and walks without permission, a tray of tea and biscuits in his hands, a peace offering.

"I'm sorry," Mycroft says immediately. "I cannot remember why we had a conflict this morning, but I do believe that I was the cause of it."

Greg presses a large mug of tea into his hands and places two biscuits by his laptop before he perches on the bed. "I'm just worried about you, Myc," Greg says with a sigh, reaching over to squeeze his hand. "You are wearing yourself down too much, you've been up all hours of the night and you are at that laptop all day, you've barely slept or taken a break."

The exhaustion seems to flood through him instantly and he presses his hands against his temples, trying to relieve the ache that has been bothering him for days, stress-induced. "I'm just trying to fix this situation and I don't know how to fix it," He mumbles. "I've been trying to fight a losing battle."

"I know that this is a really difficult time for you, " Greg says, kneeling on the ground, placing a hand on his cheek as he presses a kiss on his forehead. "I know that you are stressed as anything, but you are doing to save the country, you always do."

"I know that you do not want to be cooped in this flat with me," Mycroft forces himself to look up at Greg, taking hold of his hand. "I know that this is difficult for you and you hate being cooped up. I know that you miss your friends and you miss ordinary life."

Greg lets out a chuckle and kisses him lightly. "There is no one else I would rather be stuck with, I've been locked in a bank vault with your brother and that was a lot worse than this. Trust me."

For the first time in days, Mycroft is able to laugh, it almost takes him by surprise. It is one of the many talents of Greg, he is the only person who can make him laugh until his stomach hurts and regardless of the situation. The smile is short-lived and the frown grows on his face. "It is going to get worse before it gets better, it's going to take more than three weeks," Mycroft whispers. "I'm so sorry."  
  


Greg closes the laptop and pulls him onto his feet, pressing a kiss to his temple. "I know, but one day at a time," He says, the smile on his face is tight. "People have survived worse events than this throughout the years, civilisation is a cockroach, always finds a way to keep on living despite the circumstances. The world keeps on turning somehow. There's always hope and things will get better. I believe that you are going to sort this out."

Even though Mycroft has never been one to believe in hope, he has been let down far too many times when he has gotten his hopes up too high, he wants desperately to believe in what Greg says. He is always the optimist and it one of Mycroft's favourite qualities, he's never lost faith that there is such a thing as good people despite the nature of his work, he always believes that the world can be a better place even when it feels incredibly dull right now and there is no indication when the light is going to shine through the clouds.

"Let's leave it for the night, yeah?" Greg suggests, pressing a kiss to his temple. "You need to get some food in you and you really need to sleep, Myc."

Mycroft nods and holds Greg's head in his hands and he kisses him, Greg is quick to respond, almost knowing what he needed without even having to ask. It is what makes Greg one of the most intelligent men in the world, he just knows how to make things better. "Please," Mycroft can only utter between kisses, breathless, as he tugs at Greg's shirt. Greg only nods, pulling off his tie and discarding it to the ground, capturing his mouth in another kiss which makes Mycroft's brain switch off momentarily. 

The two of them fall into a familiar dance and somehow, Greg makes the rest of the world feel non-existent when he traps him in his arms, kissing the constellation of freckles and old scars from fieldwork years ago that is on his skin. For the longest time, it feels almost as if Greg is just teasing him, only touching him with just his fingertips and his kisses, almost as if he is trying to compensate with the lack of human contact and the distance from the world that they have and will continue to experience just for some time. Mycroft has never been one to understand the appeal of hugs or a pat of the back, Greg, on the other hand, thrives off it. Mycroft could never understand the appeal of physical contact until he met Greg, he craves it far too much these days. He couldn't possibly be in isolation without Greg, he knows that he would miss him far too dearly, miss Greg's soft touches and his kisses, he's far too reliant on them these days.

They kiss as they make love, it's honestly Mycroft's favourite part. They've been together long enough to know what the other likes and needs, they've passed the awkward fumbling that happens with each new person, it's a familiar routine, warm, comfortable, and safe. It almost feels like the lazy and loving sex that they have on Sunday mornings on a rare lie on, but Mycroft is not even sure what day it is this week, time only seems like a mere concept when life has gone on hold when they are in a lockdown.

Once his orgasm has washed over him and Mycroft's brain is rebooting, all he can focus on his Greg's arms around him, the weight warm and comforting. The problems of the world feel as if they don't exist and that is not having to face the biggest uncertainty that year is currently facing. It is completely selfish that he feels content in a time like this, but he allows himself to sink into the warm feeling just for a few moments. 

Once Greg has gotten some dinner into him, they curl up in bed and watch a film. It's a lighthearted comedy that the humour doesn't hit the right notes for him, but he loves how Greg laughs at the stupid jokes and how Greg runs his hand through his hair absentmindedly as he watches the film. It feels completely wrong to feel happy and safe, curled up in a bed with Greg as so many people are facing great uncertainly. It's completely selfish as he knows that he is meant to be at his laptop, trying to mend the world for Greg. He cannot possibly let Greg lose his optimism and his hope, his belief that things are going to get better.

"You are thinking too loud," Greg murmurs, pressing a kiss onto his temple. "One day at a time, it will get better. It takes some time though."

Mycroft closes his eyes and sighs, he wants to desperately believe him. Greg is the most intelligent man that he knows and he is usually right about most things, his optimism and his sense of hope can be infectious, and Mycroft honestly needs some of it.

He is not sure why the words come out of his mouth, they just seem to fall out. The world has fallen into madness and it feels only right to tell Greg what is on his mind. It is the only certainty that he has right now. "I love you."

Greg kisses his forehead and wraps his arm around him tightly. "I know. I love you too."

He knows that it is going to be another difficult day tomorrow, he is going into the never-ending battle once more, the world of uncertainties. Mycroft glances at Greg and smiles despite the chaos and uncertainty that is happening right now. He is going to solve this, it will take time, but it will be over soon. It's hard to let himself be hopeful about, but he is going to fix the world for Greg and he would do anything for him, Greg believes that he can solve this terrible puzzle. Mycroft is not sure that he can do it or when it will be over, he won't stop trying though. He smiles to himself, perhaps Greg's feelings of hope were contagious. 


End file.
